


City of Stars

by Diana_Raven



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen, happy birthday timmy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 21:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15349557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Raven/pseuds/Diana_Raven
Summary: Tim reflects on Gotham during a very special day.





	City of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I wrote this afetr seeing La La Land and it was going to be an introspective on Gotham but then... I decided to make it a birthday fic for Timbo.

Conner doesn’t get it. He truly, honestly does not understand. And Tim thinks that that is okay, because, see, he isn’t the only one who doesn’t get it. Cassie and Bart don’t understand either. Neither does Gar, he thinks, nor Kori nor Vic. Raven might, she _might_ understand. Rose can’t, no matter what universe she’s in she never would be able to. Sometimes he wonders if his friends from Young Justice would understand, he wonders about Anita and Ray. Anita, he is sure, does get it. Ray wouldn’t, nothing against him but it’s just not his thing. He doesn’t think Cissie could either, nor Greta. Not even sweet understanding little Traya could understand.

Gotham is beautiful. It’s doesn’t have the type of beauty that Metropolis claims, doesn’t have the right type of pull that Star or Hub City does. It’s not airy like Coast City or San Francisco. No. Instead it’s dark and grim and, truthfully, a little scary and very dangerous. But there’s one thing about it that is different than every other city on Earth. At night, when most people stare up at the sky to see the stars, all you have to do in Gotham is look down.

Okay, granted Tim’s being a little dramatic when he thinks that. But from where he is, up on the highest buildings in Gotham, when he looks down he sees the most beautiful thing in the world, he thinks. He sees a city of stars.

Despite her misgivings, Gotham has a sort of allure that no other city could ever have. Something so purely and beautifully Gotham that Tim almost doesn’t believe that the place in which he is living is real. Everything about her has this type of elegance sprinkled with stardust. Even, though he is loath to think it, the murders and crimes which happen on her streets. All the villains, be it Selina or Nygma or Harley or Dent, they all bring their own little sparkle to the city, making their own stars shine. For Fries it’s the snow and cold he colors her streets with, for Penguin it’s the glittering ice (both metaphoric and literal) that he works with.

Tim thinks the only people who could ever really truly get it are those who have already included theirselves in the sparkle of the city. And of course, by that he means the Bats. He means the way that Dick keeps returning, even after his many dramatic leaves of absence from the city. He means the way that Barbara can’t stay away, not even losing feeling in half her body could make her. He means the way that even Jason returned from death, to this city, these stars. He means the way that Bruce can never leave and the way that the city seems to breed so many vigilantes that Tim wonders why he’s even needed anymore. He means the way that he can never leave, not for long.

So when he walks on these rooftops he looks around him. He looks down at the city of his. At Gotham. He watches these stars as they twinkle in the night, their symphonic sirens crashing like nebulae, the swirl of the billboard colors and the neons and pastels that are worn by them, making them more vibrant than space could ever be. And Tim would know, he’s _been_ to space.

“Hey Dude, what’s happening?”

Duke.

His Signal suit is so beautiful. So original. Nothing like anyone else’s here, and Tim _loves_ that. He loves how Duke has come to his own, made Gotham his own, in a way that Tim never could, not even if he wanted to.

Unlike the rest of the Bats who keep trying, over and over to pull away from the universe that is Gotham, but never able to. Against all will and common sense, they keep orbiting back to her. Unlike all of them, Duke has taken Gotham in, embraced her in all he can, keeping her safe and pure in that special way that she totally isn’t. He embraced her as she was, and he blinds her, a supernova in a universe. So bright and beautiful and a long time coming, showing all that’s around just who he is. Going nova makes his biproducts, black holes and more nebulae, even deeper and brighter than himself (if that’s possible). Gotham’s daytime hero.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“It’s warm tonight.” He’s right. It is.

“Summer does that…” Duke gives Tim a laugh. “Okay,” Tim admits, “ _sometimes_ summer does that.”

Both of them are silent.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Stars.”

“Oh?” Duke raises an eyebrow.

“They’re pretty.”

“They sure are. Kinda always annoyed me that I couldn’t see them from here.”

“But you’d never leave, huh?”

“Never.” Duke pauses, staring up at the dusky sky. “I would like to go to space though. What’s it like?”

“Well, most times when I’m up there, there’s world saving going on.”

“So?”

“Yeah…” Tim says softly, “yeah, sometimes I looked around. It’s gorgeous. Stars and planets… nebulae… everything is so… beautiful.”

“But you wouldn’t leave here for the world?” Duke turns the question on Tim.

“Gotham is my home. Space is a nice place to visit and Gotham is a bad place to live, but when it comes to space on earth, Gotham is close enough.”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Tim asks after another moment of silence. “You’re a _daytime_ hero. The night is mine.”

“Possessive much?” Duke laughs. “You going to stay up here all night?”

“Why? You got plans?”

“No, you idiot. _You_ do.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “I… do?”

Duke smiles. “Follow me.”

Duke takes off across the buildings like a planet in orbit, and Tim follows, like a moon being pulled across the solar system. They weave through the city. Tim knows this city like the back of his hand, but Duke makes sure he gets turned around. Duke brings him in circles, round and round. They take down seven muggings, four robberies, gift-wrap three Rogues for GCPD (the shining stars of a city full of them, the police not the Rogues), and they walk two women and one man home.

Finally Duke pulls Tim out of the city, and now Tim knows where he’s going. But no idea why Duke took the long way around, and why he’s going there.

Wayne Manor.

The monolith alone on one of her hills, overseeing a universe of stars and planets of people.

Duke covers Tim’s eyes with a blindfold, one of the special kinds Bruce had made for actual darkness.

Duke leads him through the house, Tim knows, he is aware of the blueprint of the Manor when blindfolded. One of the first things he leaned.

He can feel the wind, and can taste the chill in the breeze though the air itself is warm. He’s on the roof, outside. He hears the crackling of a fire and he smells the smoke. He knows his friends are there, his family. He can hear their scuttling and whispers, can feel their eyes and giddiness.

But why are they here? And what’s with the performative secrecy?

Duke whips off the blindfold and Tim acts surprised as he is surrounded by those he loves (and his brothers). All of the stars that his figurative world orbits around. The nebula of his life.

Tim keeps his laughter inside himself. He is so far in his analogy he is mixing his metaphors.

“ _Happy birthday!_ ”

Alfred (and probably others who he made help him) has set up lounge chairs and buffet and there is Tim’s family and there are nice, small bonfires for ambiance and light. Everyone is smiling at him. Well, almost everyone.

Tim blinks, in shock. Did he forget again? He does the math in his head, if (one two three four five si-) six days ago was the thirteenth (he remembers because it was a Friday and so some Rogue had actually decided to play Friday the Thirteenth with Tim) then… the nineteenth.

_Happy birthday to me._


End file.
